Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Three hundred years ago I thought I might get some sleep I stretched myself out onna antique bed An' my spirit did a midnite creep

Once there were Two Holy Days in Blegsylvania: Jon Swift's Blogroll Amnesty Day, February 1, and Zappadan, December 21. Of the two the first is far Holier to me: Jon Swift did me major Kinds three Blegsylvanian geological eras ago, plus I'm not a Zappanista - I admire more than like. Be glad to know I did delete the post that went with the school bus upside-down bridge yesterday. This paragraph describing your life out of your hands the road ice the car tobogganing I will die snowplow die tree die telephone pole, that relax and dig this freaking catastrophe, yes? feeling? I see no mention of Zappadan in Blegsylvania 2016. I don't remember the names of some of the Kind blogs that first hoisted Zappadan, so fuck me, though I'd have seen something if there was something. We're tapping pipes at each other here. Hey, if you want Zappa song(s) here, let me know.

More than half the fun of Zappadan was the social component, and when Blegsylvania died in favor of facebook and Twitter, Zappadan sort of died with it. If I'm going to howl into the void about the joys of Uncle Meat, why waste time doing it on a blog.

Mark Hoback dba The Aristocrats started Zappadan 10 years ago. I imagine there are still pockets of people celebrating it all over the world, without a clue about how it started

Was a Zappa fan from earliest days, as much for the anti-establishment-ism of it as for his sublime guitar virtuosity. Hell, Wisdoc even had complementary LPs when we met. I mean, how could I not? I did enjoy the social component of Zappadan, true. This year I marked it the way I wish I could mark xmas—quietly noted, said nothing, moved on. Thanks, though, for the remembrance.

Adrian Belew has a story about when he tried to meet surreptitiously with Bowie in a restaurant after his Zappa gig and the latter turned out to be there, having anyway already sensed that the former was in the process of poaching his guitarist. Belew sat uncomfortably observing as his present boss sneeringly addressed his impending boss as "Captain Tom".